


Above the Trainwreck; the Meaning of it All

by hooksandheroics



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooksandheroics/pseuds/hooksandheroics
Summary: Bellamy doesn't really sleep, not since they've fallen from the sky. And he doesn't really dream anymore, but this time he does.(Based on the season 4 trailer.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candid59](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candid59/gifts).



> Hi, I lied. This isn't my last fic.

It wasn’t the kind of nightmare that had him bolting up from his mattress, sweat-soaked and hyperventilating. It was the kind that woke him up with his heart pounding heavily in his chest, his fingers cold, his stomach curled up.

There was that foggy feeling of knowing that he was dreaming, and the feeling of vines around his limbs that grounds him to the moment. It was horrifying, nevertheless.

He feels his arm reaching out to her – to Clarke. It’s Clarke, he can never mistake her even with her back turned. Hell, he’d spotted her in a field full of grounders, he’d know her anywhere. But something’s strange, his heart tells him. _Something’s not right_.

She turns at his touch and he couldn’t help staggering back. She’s – it’s the radiation. It has gotten to her. Burns on her face, her eyes unseeing and _blind_. She’s –

He wakes up then.

Bellamy doesn’t dream that often, or maybe he just forgets his dreams. None of them really stays that long after he opens his eyes, but he always feels the lingering dread at the pit of his stomach. Like his body recognizes that he was in there, but his mind doesn’t.

This one, though. It’s vivid, and terrifying, not because of the image of Clarke dying from radiation but because it’s a reminder. It reminded him that after all this time, she can still leave him. Maybe not because she wanted to, but because Earth is cruel, and they never catch a break. One way or another, they’re going to take her and he will not be able to do something about it.

It drops a weight on his chest and he stays pinned to his bed for a full minute before the body next to him shifts and curls around his arm.

He’s acutely aware of the time.

Most days, he doesn’t really _sleep_. He shuts his eyes, lulls himself into some kind of rest, but never really feels the fall from consciousness, not for as long as he’s been on the ground. So he knows it’s three in the morning, and the buzz of voices outside the cabin is from the guards on duty, trying to stay awake.

He turns his head and his nose meets soft blonde hair, mussed from sleep.

She’s here, she’s safe. For now, his mind cruelly supplies.

One cold hand lands on his chest, fingers flexing on bare skin. It makes him smile, even a little, even after that nightmare. Clarke’s still here, she’s sleeping next to him. He still doesn’t know what they are, haven’t really had the time to figure out with everything that’s happening all at once, but they sleep next to each other if the time allows. Their eyes meet at every meeting, he nods and she does the same, they reach an agreement. She seeks him out in the crowd, takes his arm and frowns whenever he admits to her incessant questions about his meal times. He tells her the same thing.

Everybody takes care of everybody, that’s how they’ve become. But nobody takes care of each other the way they do. It’s different with Clarke. Somehow.

“Is it a dream?”

Her voice cuts through the thick haze of the dark early morning, and suddenly he’s aware of the skin of his neck where her breath hits. She sounds like she has been awake for a few minutes already, the roughness in her voice every time he catches her _just_ waking up, almost gone.

“Yeah,” he replies, just as quiet. Like the peace will shatter if their voices go above a whisper.

“Is it about me?”

He pauses. “Not everything’s about you, princess.”

She does the same, _pause_. Everybody knows why she pauses, it’s to think. But nobody knows what each pause means, not like Bellamy does. And this time, it’s because she’s trying to see through the wall he’s put up around himself.

He feels her lips press against his neck, linger to feel his pulse, and then she’s pulling away to sit up. His eyes follow her movements, petrified.

It’s not the first time she’s kissed him; never on the lips. But. This doesn’t feel the same as the others.

For a moment, she has her back turned to him, her shirt crumpled with sleep, her hair even worse than he thought. But she still soaks up all the meager light in the room, and he tries really hard to _not_ tell her that he’s so far gone for her.

And then she turns her head and smiles at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sits up now, he doesn’t think he can take this conversation lying down. “You’ve told me several times.”

“You still don’t get it,” she replies, quietly. “I’m never leaving you. Again. Not if I can help it.”

Their shoulders brush and she leans against him, soft and breathing and _alive_. “That’s what I fear,” he admits. His hand finds hers underneath the crumpled covers, she turns her hand over and laces their fingers together. “Someday, something’s going to come and take you away from me and I – you can’t just promise that.”

He’s a little surprised when she nods. She leans her head on his shoulder and her hand tightens around his. “Yeah. I know. But I can try not to get taken, right? And you’d do the same? For me?”

It hits him, suddenly, that she _needs_ him. Even with the words already out there in the open for a very long time now, he still hadn’t thought it was true until she’s voicing out the very same fear he has in his chest.

He loves her. It hits him, and he buries his smile in her hair. They’re so close, skin to skin, and she’s breathing him in the same way he does her. It hits him that maybe she loves him, too. The very same way he loves her. It’s hard to believe, but they’re here and his heart has never spoken this loudly before.

“I love you,” she tells the skin of his shoulder, and he huffs a laugh.

“Yeah. You, too.”

She lifts her head and smiles at him, hair a mess, sleep crusted around her eyes. But she’s looking at him – she’s looking at him the same way she has always looked at him, and it dawns on him that this has always been true.

He leans forward and kisses her, warmth flooding his chest, running under his skin. She tangles her fingers through his hair and tugs him down until she’s under him and the kiss becomes deep and slow and warm. She breathes his name and he presses closer, kisses her jaw and her neck.

Somehow, he sleeps again after that, with Clarke in his arms. And when he wakes up, it’s still the same day. Still the same problems, still the same enemy. Nothing really changed.

But when he meets her gaze from across camp, he knows what it means when she smiles at him like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you liked it. If you did, leave a comment or a kudos! [Find me here.](http://hooksandheroics.tumblr.com)


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